


Moments - Kagome

by aleatoryEpiphany



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 11:56:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleatoryEpiphany/pseuds/aleatoryEpiphany
Summary: Small moments can leave indelible impacts on the heart. Canon Universe, Miroku/Kagome





	Moments - Kagome

Miroku is an enigma. An enigma, wrapped in a fog bank, and obscured by shimmering, opalescent crystal. Kagome realises this on a day like any other, when he is flirting playfully with a village girl; but Kagome sees what the rest of her group misses. The emptiness inside of his eyes, the vague, persistent flattery that means nothing to him, because as much of a lecher as he is, he never intends to go far with any of his empty flirtations.

The shimmering crystal he is obscured by is his mask; happy go lucky, lazy, carefree, flirtatious, lecherous – and a lie through and through.

The fog bank is the seriousness of his thoughts, the way he stares at his hand when he thinks no one is looking, clenching and unclenching his fingers to ease the ache where his death is waiting for him; sitting so innocently in the palm of his hand.

The enigma is that he hasn’t given up yet. That somehow, miraculously, he still has hope – and as Kagome watches him from across the fire, she wonders why everybody else takes him for granted. How they can possibly buy his act. Then again, it is a very good act, and he does his best to make sure the mask is tied tightly around his head. Still; doesn’t he deserve better than that?

Kagome vows to be his friend, a real friend, and to help him whenever she can.

\- - -

Kagome finds herself _seeing_ him now. Noticing, inquiring inside of her mind. Something has changed, she isn’t sure what. Miroku has begun letting down his shields a little more when she is around him, offering her his comfort and his aid, and now she _sees_ more.

She begins to fall.

\- - -

Kagome is sitting on a cliff when her friend’s presence settles in beside her. They’ve come to more of an understanding by now – he lets her see beyond the shimmering crystal obscuring him, and in turn, listens to her woes and allows her to comfort him when things are particularly bad. His arm wraps around her chastely – ever since she began _really_ being his friend, the groping has gradually decreased, replaced with chaste touches. Friendly touches. Needed touches. And when they are alone together, the suffixes are dropped from their names. Friends do not address each other in respectful tones when they are on the same level. “I’ll never be Kikyō, and I know this. I’ll never be as talented, or beautiful, or-”

He cuts her off with a squeeze before pulling her into his lap and wrapping both arms around her waist. “Whether he means them or not, Kagome, do not believe his words. _You are beautiful_ , beyond belief. _You are powerful_ , even more so than the clay doll is. _You are strong_ ; you come from a time in which you have all the comforts you could want and still you come back here and get yourself into trouble, wind up hurt because you refuse to not take part, you refuse to sit back and let everyone else do all the work. You are the heart and soul of our group, Kagome, and _never_ let him make you believe otherwise. _You_ are not the unworthy one in this friendship,” and Kagome is relieved that he didn’t say _relationship_ there, because she has been wondering lately if there is even one there to be called such a thing, but listens as he continues, his voice fierce and harsh, “ _Inuyasha_ is the unworthy one here. You deserve better than his treatment of you, Kagome, and everyone but Inuyasha knows it.”

She is crying by the time he finishes his speech, because when they are alone together Miroku never, _ever_ lies to her, and as she sobs, clinging to him, crying, gasping, and shuddering, he murmurs into her ear, nonsense words in a soothing tone to help her recover. It shifts the balance, and Kagome finds herself grateful for her realisation all that time ago about Miroku. Sango might well have said the same things to her, but Sango was not Miroku. Sango was a female and a warrior and afforded respect by anyone wherever they went. Miroku was a male and males held different beliefs than females.

_He thinks I am beautiful, and powerful, and strong, and worthy_. It is enough.

\- - -

“What is that, Kagome-sama?”

This is not one of their usual times alone, and they are close to camp, so the damnable suffix is still there. Kagome finds herself hating it, lately. “This?”

She holds up her mp3 player, and he nods at her. Kagome blushes sheepishly; nobody else had liked it, so she hadn’t gone to show it off to Miroku; she didn’t want the same incomprehension about why on earth she could enjoy such a thing to be directed towards her from him. “It is a music player. In my time, music can be stored inside of devices and then played through earpieces so that one can have it to listen to whenever they want.”

He looks thoughtful as he sits across from her. “I have always been a lover of music. May I listen to something, Kagome-sama?”

Kagome nods hesitantly and decides on Moonlight Sonata for him to listen to; the _full_ version, not just the slow part that was the most familiar and recognisable portion of the sonata, but the version with upbeat, heart-racing parts that it ended on. She thinks it might call to him the way it calls to her; the melancholy and the beautiful followed by the driven, the rushed – it reminds her of her adventures here; the despair and longing and hopelessness of the beginning, clenching her heart, making her ache with a wish that soon everything would be over. And then there are those fast parts; reminding her of the panic and drive to survive in the midst of battle. The triumph of winning and the desperation to make sure that everyone was going to survive afterwards, followed not by rest but a never-ending return to battles fought for shards. “Sure. Here. This is called Moonlight Sonata.”

She places the earpieces into his ears, makes sure the volume is at an acceptable level, and then presses play. She stares at her hands as she waits, before hesitantly looking up at him, only to gasp in wonder and shock. His head is leaning back against the trunk of the tree he is resting against, his eyes are closed, his hands are more relaxed than she has ever seen them to be before this moment in time, and tears are streaming down his cheeks, unchecked and unheeded. His chest is heaving lightly, and she worries at her lip, before he seems to notice her staring and gives her oh, the most _beautiful_ smile she has ever seen on anybody. Miroku has never smiled like _that_ before, and she comes to the realisation that her choice was the right one, that he understands and feels a kinship and gratefulness towards her; because he understands what she is trying to show him. “This is so incredibly, achingly beautiful.”

The words are soft, whispered, and she takes one of his hands in her own, lacing their fingers together as he finishes the piece. When it is done, he lifts her hand up and kisses the back of it, his voice husky with suppressed emotion as he speaks. “Thank you, Kagome. Thank you so much.”

She blushes softly and smiles shyly at him. “You’re welcome, Miroku.”

\- - -

Inuyasha is gone again, and there is a fire inside of her heart, inside of her mind. Every time he left for the past few weeks, that fire had grown hotter and hotter, and tonight it is finally burning hot enough for what she needs of it. Kagome slips away from camp and pads to the onsen, sitting on a flat rock outcropping that is jutting out above the water, one that just earlier tonight her precious little kit had used to jump and splash into the water. The memory makes her smile, before she recalls herself back to the present. She isn’t here to reminisce about the kitsune she sees as a son. She is here to banish the last vestiges of her feelings for Inuyasha into the depths; for good, this time around. Permanently, forever, so that they can never sneak back up on her and wound her again.

So, she thinks about all their differences. How much they constantly fight. The power she has over him; and how often he forces her into using that power she has over him, those beads. The things driving them apart. The way he treats her, day in and day out. How much he hurts her. How callously he leaves her whenever the clay Kikyō is around. It is enough, in the end, to lay to rest the last, fragile pieces of what parts of her had loved him. And she cries, for the loss of that innocence, that joy, that hope, completely unsurprised when arms wrap around her from behind and a chin rests upon her head, saying nothing yet. The comforting presence behind and around her makes her sob harder, because it _hurt_ _s_ to lose those things, even though she knows that if she does not wish to end up broken hearted forever, they _ha_ _ve_ _to_ _ **go**_.

It isn’t until the tears have stopped that her companion ( _you only use that word to disguise your feelings for him_ ) speaks up. “Why were you crying so fiercely, Kagome?”

He knows, already, that her feelings for the hanyō have been fading fast. He knows without words that the reason she was just now crying can not possibly have had anything to do with a broken, bruised heart just because Inuyasha had gone to Kikyō again. “I did it. I laid everything to rest, difficult though it was, and so I was mourning the loss of my first love. The loss of – of all the things that went along with it. And, perhaps, mourning because I may yet never know its like again. The first is always different, in some way, than any other love you’ll ever have. Not necessarily in a good way, but still different.”

Miroku is silent for a time, before he asks her, “Are you going to tell him?”

Kagome scoffs, “He doesn’t deserve to know, and if I tell him it’s very likely that the abuse he pours onto me day by day will grow even more vehement and venomous. No. He’ll figure it out, eventually, or he won’t even care, because he has _her_ to go to.”

Suddenly Miroku lifts his head off of hers, turns her face to the side, and kisses her cheek. “I am so very proud of you, Kagome.”

She flushes from delight at the praise and in happiness from the kiss, before settling back into him comfortably. “Thank you, Miroku.”

\- - -

Naraku is dead, but her journey isn’t over; there are still shards left for her to find. She is contemplating the surprise she was feeling at the fact that the group had collectively decided to stay together in order to complete her mission before Miroku sits beside her and she decides that he deserves to know her decision about jumping through time.

“When the jewel is finished, I’m going to stay here. In fact, I think I’ll only go back to the future one or two more times before stopping my visits there; it isn’t as if I can go to high school what with my failing grades and copious amount of absences from middle school.”

_He looks so handsome when he’s pleased or shocked by something, and incredibly so when he is both at the same time_.

“But… Why ever would you do such a thing, Kagome? You have unimaginable comforts in the future. Your family is in the future-”

She cuts him off, slashing her hand through the air. “ _Part_ of my family is in the future. I have a son here, and a sister here, and I have you here, most importantly. There’s no way in hell I am leaving this place behind.”

Miroku looks even more shocked at her words, and she wonders why before what she said comes rushing back to her and she squeaks and covers her face. _Shit! I practically blurted out that I’m in love with him when I said that_!

Her breath comes faster and tears begin to swarm in her eyes as there is no response for long moments – and then warm, strong arms envelop her, a shaking body pulls her into his lap, and her hands are pulled away. Then her chin is lifted up, and she is kissed furiously. Desperately. _Like a drowning man clinging to his only chance of survival_ , she thinks, as she gasps into the kiss and clutches at him, panting when he pulls away. She realises then that she hasn’t been the only one harbouring deeper feelings for the other; she hasn’t been the only one falling in love and finding herself feeling hopeless over it. She hasn’t been the only one longing and loving and protecting and adoring and hoping.

“I love you, Kagome.”

It seems such a meaningless thing to say after a kiss like _that_ but she treasures the words because they are all she has wanted from him for months now. She smiles at him, brilliant and happy and shining, before she returns the sentiment. “I love you too, Miroku.”

_I have him_.

_No_ , she corrects herself when she sees the happiness in his eyes, _we have each other_.

It was all she could ever want.


End file.
